


Honey and Ginger

by blatantsockpuppet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biracial Sirius, Blood and Violence, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, F/F, F/M, Ginny Weasley-centric, It'll get fluffier i swear, M/M, POV Ginny Weasley, Slow Burn, Useless Lesbians, it wasn't meant to be but now it is I guess, very slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:00:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26974813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blatantsockpuppet/pseuds/blatantsockpuppet
Summary: Ginny Weasley isn't having the best first year at Hogwarts. A mysterious new friend has her questioning her identity, and something sinister is creeping around the castle.Alternate Summary with mild spoilers for the mysterySirius has a kid in Azkaban that no-one knew about, since the children of werewolves get locked up and experimented on. She grows up in an orphanage unknowing of her parentage and goes to Hogwarts, where she becomes friends with Ginny Weasley.
Relationships: Ginny Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 19
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All rights to any recognizable characters, plot, settings, or text belong to JK Rowling and Scholastic Press (American) and Bloomsbury (UK).

Having six brothers was exhausting, thought Ginny Weasley as she rushed down the corridor towards what she _hoped_ was her Transfiguration classroom. Especially exhausting was when three of those brothers purposefully told you wrong directions, and it took a helpful fifth year for you to finally find your way. It was only her third day at Hogwarts, and Ginny despaired at how she would ever learn her way around it’s labyrinth of hallways. 

Ginny ducked into the hallway just as the doors swung shut, looking around at the desks arranged around the room for a place to sit. To her dismay there were no open seats around the few Gryffindors she knew, so she made her way to the only empty seat. It was next to a short Hufflepuff girl with curly, honey blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. As Ginny sat next to her the girl looked up at her in surprise before giving her a lopsided grin. Ginny was caught off guard by just how _pretty_ the girl was. Her eyes were a dark grey and their shape made Ginny think the girl might have some Asian heritage, though she couldn’t be sure. She found herself staring at the slight gold flecks around the girl’s pupils. 

“Nice to meet you.” Said the mystery girl, snapping Ginny out of her trance. “My name’s Lyra Smith, what’s yours.” “Uh… Ginny. Ginny Weasley” Ginny replied, mentally kicking herself for how utterly stupid she sounded. _Really Ginny, are you sure that’s your name? Now she’s going to think you’re just the poor idiot and never want to talk to you again._ For some reason that thought was incredibly unappealing to her. Unexplainably, the girl just smiled wider at her. “You have trouble getting here as well? Don’t worry, I only got here on time because Peeves told me where to go.” Ginny’s eyes widened in surprise. “So you’re muggleborn? I heard from my brothers that Peeves doesn’t help anyone but Muggleborns. My brothers were no help. They all told me the wrong way to go.” Ginny noticed herself babbling and stopped, feeling embarrassed. _You’ll scare her off!_ The voice inside her head chided as Lyra’s smile dimmed. 

“I guess I am. I don’t know my parents. Didn’t even know I was a witch until Professor McGonagall told me.” Lyra said, seeming a bit wistful. Ginny noticed the shift in her new friend’s mood and shoved down the curiosity bubbling inside of her, wanting to reassure Lyra she didn’t mind. “Well if you need directions ask my brother Percy. He’s got red hair and glasses. Don’t ask the twins, they think it’s funny to give first years the wrong directions, and Ron’s just useless.” Lyra laughed, and the sound made Ginny's heart beat a tad bit faster. 

“Just how many brothers do you have?” Lyra asked, her eyes sparkling again. “Six, all older.” Ginny replied, expecting the shock that often came when people heard how big her family was. Lyra looked thoughtful and was about to speak when the entire classroom went silent. 

Professor McGonagall stood patiently at the front of the classroom, though Ginny swore she wasn’t there before and nobody had entered the classroom. Judging by the whispers ricocheting around the room, the professor had just transformed from a cat to human. 

“Now, many of you will be wondering how fast you can learn to turn into an animal.” McGonagall said, bringing a hush over the room. “That is not something I will teach you. Becoming an Animagus is a dangerous task highly regulated by the ministry. What you _will_ learn in this class is how to transform almost anything else.” 

Ginny felt a tug on the sleeve of her robe and looked over to see Lyra’s face, suddenly ashen. “Does that mean it’s illegal to be an Animagus without the government knowing?” She whispered, seeming worried for some reason. “That’s what it sounds like, yeah.” Ginny whispered back, eyes still fixed on Professor McGonagall. She already liked the teacher and her no-nonsense attitude, and she didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot. 

McGonagall continued. “Transfiguration is an incredibly complex and dangerous magic, and as such, I will not tolerate anyone messing around or not taking it seriously.” She then turned a candelabra into a hedgehog and back again. 

The rest of the class was not as exciting as the beginning. Ginny and Lyra took very complicated notes before starting on the task of turning a matchstick into a needle. Lyra managed to turn her matchstick into something vaguely pointy and metallic, and with her help Ginny’s matchstick turned gray. Professor McGonagall seemed pleased with both of them, muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Should’ve known.” Ginny looked curiously at Lyra as their teacher moved on to the next table. “What do you think she meant by that? No-one in my family is all that good at transfiguration.” Lyra looked just as confused. “Must’ve misheard her.” At that moment the bell rang, releasing them from class. 

“I’ve got Defense next, how about you?” Ginny said, picking up her bag and hoping that her and her new friend would have more classes together. She had enjoyed laughing and joking with Lyra, and she felt more at ease with her than any of the Gryffindor first years she had met. “Herbology.” Lyra said, looking as disappointed as Ginny felt. “Then Potions after.” “Me too!” Ginny perked up, glad to see her excitement mirrored on Lyra’s face. “Not looking forward to having Snape, though. My brother Ron complained about him all summer. Though I think he really just seemed to hate Ron’s mate Harry.” Lyra smirked. “Well hopefully he doesn’t hate either of us. I’ll see you then!” The girls waved at each other as they went their separate ways, Ginny’s dread of Professor Snape lessened by the anticipation of seeing the pretty blonde again. 

Lockhart was terrible. Ginny could acknowledge that he was handsome, though he didn’t do much for her personally, but it seemed that there wasn’t much behind that blinding smile. _Especially compared to Lyra…_ her treacherous thoughts supplied, but Ginny shoved that down. Finally her Defense Against the Dark Arts class was over, and Ginny hastily shoved the Lockhart books Harry had given her into her bag and started towards the dungeons, eager to see Lyra again. 

Her heart sped up a bit when she saw Lyra standing outside the door to the Potions classroom waiting for her, though that might also have been the run down several flights of stairs. Lyra had a smudge of dirt above her left eyebrow and some curls had fallen out of her ponytail to frame her face. Ginny resisted the urge to wipe off the dirt and instead grinned at her friend. “You’ve got a bit of dirt just there.” She said, pointing to her own forehead. Lyra wiped off the dirt and grinned back at her. “Thanks. You ready to see if your brother was telling the truth?” Lyra replied, holding out her arm for Ginny to take. “Better to get it over with, I guess.” 

The pair found a table together near the middle of the room, chatting about their previous classes as they waited for Snape to arrive. Lyra was telling Ginny about how they had been tasked with planting wormwood seedlings when Snape stalked in, cape billowing behind him. 

Snape started by taking roll. He stared at Lyra after she said “Here.” just a little bit longer than he did everyone else, giving Ginny a weird feeling. After reaching Ginny’s name at the end of the list, Snape put the parchment he was reading off of down and stood staring disapprovingly at the class, as if they had already failed his expectations. 

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making.” Snape started, speaking barely loud enough to be heard. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the minds, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.” Once Snape had finished speaking Lyra slid a piece of paper across the table to Ginny, who looked down at it as subtly as possible. 

**It sounds like he needs to brew himself a girlfriend.**

Ginny stifled a snort and looked over at her friend, who was staring innocently ahead at where Snape was writing a recipe on the chalkboard. She was struck by how good Lyra looked in profile, the candlelight making her skin glow. No. Lyra looked as good as any girl, Ginny supposed. In a totally normal way. While the pair made the potion Snape had assigned, Ginny kept looking up at the board to check the instructions. Every time Snape was looking at Lyra with the look of someone who saw someone they knew, but couldn’t place where from. That and his usual scowl combined to make him look like a little bit constipated. By the end of the class Ginny and Lyra had managed to make a concoction that did not receive as much scorn from Snape as others, which seemed like a win to Ginny. All too soon the class was over and Ginny and Lyra were packing up their things to leave. As they exited the classroom, Ginny reflexively turned around, the hairs rising on the back of her neck. Snape was staring after them with the same look on his face as before, as if there was a great mystery for him to unravel. 

* * *

Ginny looked for Lyra during dinner, but didn’t see her friend’s curly hair in the mass of people at the Hufflepuff table. She sat next to Marissa, one of the other girls that shared her dorm, and they shared stilted conversation while they ate. Ginny made her way back up to the dorms as soon as she finished her meal, noticing that Lyra still hadn’t arrived. She shoved down a pang of worry and sat at her desk, reaching into her bag to begin the reading they had been assigned for Transfiguration. Instead of her textbook, however, her fingers met the worn leather cover of a slim journal. Ginny pulled it out curiously. It must have fallen out of one of her books earlier in the day, as she was certain she hadn’t put it in that morning. Intrigued, Ginny opened the cover, expecting a diary or notes, but only greeted by blank parchment. Odd. 

Something about the empty page enticed Ginny to write, and, needing to process her day, she did just that. 

Today was strange. I met a girl who’s very interesting. She’s an orphan, just like my brother's friend Harry, though his parents were killed by You-Know-Who and Lyra doesn’t know her parents. 

Ginny stopped writing. She didn’t know if interesting was the right word to describe how she felt about Lyra, but she wasn’t certain how to articulate why she enjoyed Lyra’s company so much. She went to scratch out ‘interesting’, but her words seemed to be fading into the page. As she watched they disappeared entirely, replaced by writing that scratched its way across the page.

**_This Lyra girl sounds interesting._ **

Something tingled insistently in the back of Ginny’s head, but all of the sudden she needed someone to talk to. She felt the absence of the bustling house she had known all her life, and she knew her brothers would brush her off if she tried to tell them about all the feelings welling up inside her. Just writing in the journal couldn’t hurt.

Well, she’s got this really pretty hair. It’s all curly and honey-colored and I want to run my fingers through it. And she’s really smart. She helped me in Transfiguration, though I helped her in Potions so I’m not too embarrassed. The weird thing though, is that I get this odd feeling in my chest whenever she laughs or smiles at me. It feels kinda like I feel when I see Harry, but fuzzier. I don’t know how to describe it. 

Something in Ginny’s chest loosened as she wrote down the thoughts that had been bugging her all day. She waited impatiently for the ink to sink into the page and the scrawling handwriting to respond. 

**_She seems very nice. Now that you’re at school it’s not unusual for you to feel differently than when you were a kid. I realized that you don’t even know my name. How rude of me. I’m Tom Riddle. What’s your name?_ **

Ginny felt something cold trickle down her spine, but she was so desperate to talk that she brushed it aside. 

Ginny Weasley. Nice to meet you.

**_Nice to meet you as well. So tell me more about this Harry you’ve mentioned..._ **

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no clue if this is good or not, I really hope y'all like it. May be complete garbage but it was an idea that wouldn't leave me alone so...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: use of mudb***d as a slur, vomiting, Tom spouting blood-supremacy ideals, some descriptions of gore (not graphic)

Things got a little fuzzy for Ginny as Halloween neared. The bright spots were the classes she had with Lyra, who she got to know as the term progressed. She learned that Lyra loved pineapple and hated oranges, that she preferred dogs over cats, and that she liked to listen to a muggle band called No Doubt. One late night study session she even told Ginny about how, when she was little, she wished to the brightest star in the sky every night that her parents would come back for her. In return, Ginny told her about her fear of cows, that she loved scones, and, quietly, that she sometimes thought that her brothers would never accept her. 

So far her fears were not unfounded; her brothers had brushed her off whenever she attempted to speak to them, and she was left with only Marissa’s lukewarm company during mealtimes and the classes not shared with Lyra. 

She found herself writing to Tom every night about the loneliness and homesickness that threatened to consume her, which he always responded to with words of consolation and understanding. The more she told Tom, the darker things seemed to become. All she could see was the people who weren’t talking to her. She felt cold and clammy, but passed it off as just the flu. One morning she awoke covered in chicken feathers, causing her to run into the restroom to change before the other girls could see. As she picked them off, she noticed a dark spot on her nightgown that had not been there the night before. Ginny recognized it as blood, and had to rush to the toilet bowl to be sick. She felt drained and became paler, but assumed it was just the flu that had been going through the school. But sooner rather than later she had to acknowledge that something much worse was happening to her.

* * *

Halloween was one of the few occasions where people dared to sit with those in other houses. The second she entered the Great Hall her eye was immediately caught by Lyra waving at her from a table next to one of the jack-o-lanterns lining the edges of the room. Ginny grinned and, too excited to be embarrassed, rushed over to claim the seat next to her friend. Once she arrived Lyra greeted her in a side hug that made Ginny’s side burn pleasantly. “This is my friend Luna. She’s a Ravenclaw and we have DADA together.” Lyra said, gesturing at the girl sitting across the table from them. 

Luna had white blonde hair and a dreamy expression that was somehow both comforting and unnerving at the same time. She looked at Ginny in a way that seemed to look into her, and something dark and slimy slithered away from her gaze. 

“The wrackspurts seem to like you.” Luna said, still piercing Ginny’s soul with her large blue eyes. “You should have some of the pumpkin pie later.” 

Ginny smiled at Luna’s comment, relaxing. The fuzziness cleared a bit from her brain as warmth seeped from Lyra’s body next to hers. Lyra began regaling them with a story about a run in she had in a third floor corridor that almost caused Ginny to snort pumpkin juice out of her nose. By the end of the feast Ginny was red-faced from laughter, Lyra had almost hit a Ravenclaw fourth year with her wild gesticulating, and Luna had absent mindedly giggled at several of the other girls’ stories. Later in the night Luna excused herself, saying something about going Flixyhop hunting. Once she left Lyra turned to Ginny with bright eyes. “Walk me back to the common room?” 

The two girls made their way down the hallway hand in hand, giggling at Ginny’s imitation of Snape. The hallway was deserted, and Ginny’s heart sped up each time Lyra shot her stunning smile her way. By the time they reached the kitchens Ginny’s heart was hammering, and she couldn’t stop watching the pout of Lyra’s full bottom lip. She absentmindedly wondered how it would feel against her own. 

**You should kill the half-breed.**

Ginny recoiled, causing hurt to flash across Lyra’s face. That was not her thought. She felt bile rise in her throat. Her distress must have shown on her face because Lyra deflated a bit, her eyes becoming a bit sad.

“You don’t have to walk me any further if you don’t want to.” Lyra said sadly, releasing Ginny’s hand and backing away.

“Yeah,” Ginny said, feeling revolted at herself, “I’ll see you in Transfiguration.” She watched her friend walk down the hallway before turning and running away.

Her feet moved on autopilot, the strange thoughts crashing into her own, fighting to be heard. **Kill the half-breed. Rip her skin off and feed it to the beast. Her bones will make a nice addition to the décor, won’t they. Rid the world of another of her filth.** Tears streamed down Ginny’s face as she dashed up three flights of stairs to the second floor. _Not Lyra._ She repeated it like a mantra, trying to drown out the voice in her head. It was no use. She had already lost control of her body, and her arms threw open the door to the girl’s bathroom of their own accord. She could feel the thoughts getting stronger, taking over her own, and she knew it wouldn’t be long until she lost the battle entirely. **Nasty half-breed. We’ll start with her and move to the mudbloods. We’ll use their deaths as the rallying cry for our new order. Half-breed scum like her shouldn’t use** **_our_ ** **magic. Yes, she will be first…”** Ginny’s consciousness let out one last desperate gasp of _not Lyra,_ fighting to regain dominion over her treacherous limbs. The last thing she saw was her own blank face in one of the cracked mirrors over the sink before everything went black.

* * *

  
  
  


When Ginny came back to herself she was slumped against a wall, tears streaming down her face. She was back in control of her own mind, but she could still feel the other voice lurking in the back of her mind, gloating at its victory. There was yelling coming from a few corridors down, and dread trickled down Ginny’s spine. She shakily pushed herself to standing and staggered towards the noise. Her legs felt like they still didn’t fully belong to her, and they rebelled against her leadership. She willed them forward, knowing that she needed to see what she had done. 

When she turned the final corner she was met by a crowd of students. A group of Hufflepuff girls were clutching each other and weeping quietly, and Ginny was forcibly reminded of Lyra. _Oh Merlin, Lyra._ Ginny shoved her way forward, almost expecting to see Lyra lying lifeless on the floor, Ginny’s bloody palm print on the corpse proclaiming her guilt. 

Instead she was met by the stiff body of Mrs Norris hanging from the wall, a look of terror on her ugly face. Her open yellow eyes reflected off the pool of water soaking out from under the door to the girl’s loo. Also reflected in the water were the words written on the wall between two windows in large red letters: 

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

Ginny felt sick, and feeling as though she was in a trance, elbowed her way back through the crowd. She started running as soon as she was clear of the throng, not stopping until she had ducked through the portrait hole and was standing in the middle of her dorm, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She needed to process everything that happened. _I should tell Tom._ That’s what she should do. She hurried over to her bag and dug through it, pulling out the journal, her quill, and her inkpot. She flipped it open and started to write.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: blood, more hateful speech, vomit

The voice only got stronger as the term progressed. Ginny felt as though she was watching someone else play out her life through her own eyes. There were times when she was able to regain control; these were mostly the classes she had with Lyra. The way her heart pounded when she was around the other girl seemed to weaken the voice’s hold over her, but that clarity never lasted. Inevitably, usually as she was saying goodbye before heading to her next class, the voice would spew hateful words about Lyra.

**Filthy half-breed abomination. Not fit to be around wizards. Should kill, tear, rip her flesh from her bones and leave her for the maggots. Though she is an interesting specimen. Maybe hang her on the wall by her feet, watch her scream, see if we can make the beast come out and scare some muggles.**

Every time Ginny would have to rush to the nearest toilet to heave up whatever she had managed to eat earlier. As a result she lost weight, becoming waif thin and paler than usual, her freckles standing out starkly. She knew her brothers noticed, but they chalked it up to the shock of Mrs Norris’ petrification and the flu ravaging the castle. Ron even joked to her that the Heir should have finished the cat off, which made Ginny's stomach roil tumultuously and the voice sleeping at the back of her mind purr happily. 

She was able to reign in the voice’s desires until the Gryffindor quidditch match against Slytherin. She was sitting next to Lyra, who had donned one of Ginny’s red and gold scarves for the occasion. Something about seeing her friend wearing Ginny’s clothes sent a possessive thrill through her. Lyra noticed Ginny looking and beamed at her, her face flush with excitement. 

“Do you think I could be a beater? It seems exciting.” The blonde shouted, attempting to be heard over the crowd. Ginny watched her friend, looking at her tiny stature. She grinned “Sure. I want to be a Chaser.” Lyra laughed. “We’ll have to try out next year. It’ll suck having to try and hit you with a bludger though. But the Slytherin beater seems to be having a field day going at Harry.” She pointed out across the field, and Ginny followed her gaze with a sinking heart. 

Harry was swerving over the pitch, dodging a very insistent bludger. Fred and George were frantically attempting to fend it off, swinging their bats in a desperate attempt to protect their brother’s friend. Ginny felt the blood drain from her face. “I don’t think the beater’s doing that.” As the words left her lips the bludger made contact with Harry’s arm with a sickening crunch. Lyra’s hand shot out to grab Ginny’s arm as Harry’s limp body fell. 

The entire crowd went silent, though Ginny could still see several people around her scream. The voice drowned them all out. **The half-breed is touching us. Impertinent, isn’t it. For her to think she is worthy of touching a pure-blood.** _Stop it._ Ginny thought, squeezing her eyes shut as though that would stop the words in her head. **Ah, but I think we’ll keep her around a bit longer. It is so fun to hear you beg for her. Beg for the half-breed’s life. Do it well enough and I may even let her live. You can keep her as a pet.** Ginny shot up, blood trickling into her palms from the cuts her nails had made. Lyra looked at her, those gray eyes wide with concern. Ginny wouldn’t lose her. 

“I-I need to go. Please stay with the crowd.” She managed to stammer. It would be harder for her to be attacked in a group. “Are you certain you don’t want me to go with you? You’re looking a bit ill. Perhaps-” Lyra started, her voice worried. Ginny cut her off. “No, no. Stay with the crowd please. Don’t go anywhere alone.” She shoved past the throngs of people crowding the stands, feeling Lyra’s eyes boring into her back as she ran. 

_Please not Lyra. Not her. Not anyone, but especially not her. Please._ She thought frantically, hoping that the voice would listen to her. It had already taken over her legs again, bringing her closer to that dreaded bathroom with every step. Ginny fought as hard as she could, locked in a mental wrestling match with the voice. **Going to have to beg better than that, love. Pathetic. One would think you don’t really care that much about the filthy half-breed. Come to think of it, you didn’t even want to stick around and see if your half-blood boyfriend was okay. He took a pretty nasty tumble, didn’t he? No wonder your brothers want nothing to do with you.** The voice taunted her mercilessly as she struggled to regain control over her limbs. Her treacherous body was sprinting down the hallway, only a couple meters from the girl’s loo now. She had to win.

Ginny gave the voice one last push, trying valiantly to get it out of her mind, but it was no use. She was exhausted, and the voice was too strong. _Please don’t let it be Lyra._ She thought as the door banged open, and the voice sent her falling back into blackness. 

* * *

This time she awoke in the dark of her subconscious. She was still not in control, still only occupying a small corner of her own mind. Ginny wished that she could use her eyes; she needed to see what the voice was doing with her body. What if it killed this time? It would be all her fault - it was her body after all. 

She remembered being little and sitting next to her mother on their overstuffed couch, looking through a photo album. Her mother had it open to a picture of two identical red-heads laughing riotously with two dark haired boys. One she could now recognize as Harry’s dad. They really did look quite similar. Her mom had pointed to the picture, naming all but the boy laughing with his arm around James Potter. Noticing, Ginny had pointed with her own small finger and asked, “Who is that, Mama?” Her mother had gotten a look on her face, a mixture of anger and sadness that Ginny had never seen before. “He was a friend of your uncles’. We all thought he was such a nice boy, but…” She ran her hand over James’ picture absentmindedly, “he did something that no-one thought he was capable of.” Ginny looked up at her mother with innocent eyes, curious at the strange mood her mother had fallen into. “What did he do, Mama?” She asked. 

Her mother had abruptly snapped the album shut, standing up so quickly that Ginny had to catch herself before she fell over. “It doesn’t matter now. He’s in Azkaban and can’t hurt anybody anymore.” Her mother had put the album on the highest shelf, where Ginny couldn’t reach, muttering, “Better than he deserves.”

Ginny thought about that boy. Was what he did worse than her? Would she become just like him, with her brothers not naming her as they showed pictures to their children? Would Lyra go out to pubs and commiserate with her friends about how ‘no-one expected it from her, a shock to us all’? She would spend the rest of her life in Azkaban, that was for sure. Maybe she’d see the boy, emaciated with years of imprisonment, and he would stare at her with dead eyes and say, ‘another one, eh? Good that you’re here where you belong.’ 

All of the sudden Ginny felt the pressure holding her back lift, and she hurried to the forefront of her mind. The voice had retreated to gloat, and she gasped in a breath, reveling in the feeling of being back in her own body. Then it hit her like a tidal wave. What had she done? She looked around frantically, half expecting her palms to be covered in blood, but they were spotless. She was in her dorm, sitting at her desk, Tom’s journal in front of her. She was the only one awake, the rest of the girls still asleep, even though morning light creeped in through the window. She must have been out for hours; the voice was getting stronger. She could feel it, even now, pushing against her, ready to take over at any minute.She needed to find out what it’d done this time. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: some pretty graphic descriptions of violence, mostly in a dream sequence

Ginny attempted to quash her fears under a mountain of homework. If the voice had gone on a killing spree, she reasoned, her dormmates would be running around screaming and not sleeping peacefully in their beds. By the time they started to stir, Ginny had finished her Potions essay and was halfway through the one for Transfiguration. She found that she could pretend that there was no smug voice in the back of her head when she flooded it with words. She was stopped only by the gentle touch of Marissa’s hand on her shoulder. Ginny looked up at her friend to see her rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and looking worried. 

“How long have you been up? You look terrible.” Marissa yawned. 

“Gee, thanks. I just needed to finish up some homework.” Ginny said, standing up and stretching her stiff joints. She dressed quickly before breakfast. Now that her mind was no longer occupied by describing the theory behind inanimate object transfiguration, dread started to pool in her gut. As Ginny walked downstairs, she half expected to find the common room littered with bodies, Ron’s lifeless body half out of the portrait hole, a note clutched in his hand reading GINNY WEASLEY KILLED ME. But the common room was it’s usual cheery self, with groups of students clustered around, chatting and going over the day’s homework. The voice chuckled darkly.  **Don’t worry, you’ll find my little surprise soon enough. They all will.**

Ginny spent the weekend anxious and jumpy, expecting Aurors to come out of any corner and arrest her. She was sitting in the library Monday during lunch, pouring over her Charms textbook just for something to do, when she heard the rumors. 

“Did you hear? The Heir attacked again.” A Ravenclaw girl whispered to her friend, one stack over from where Ginny was. She tuned in to their conversation, dreading what would come next but needing to know. 

“Really? Who was it this time.” Her friend whispered worriedly. “Some Gryffindor first year. Jennifer Longswallow said she saw him in the hospital wing, lying there stiff as a board.” The first girl replied, seeming way too excited at the gossip she was delivering. 

Ginny felt a mix of relief and worry shoot through her as she listened. So she hadn’t killed anyone. That was a relief. But who was lying in the hospital wing petrified? Her first thought was Lyra. But no, the gossiper had definitely said  _ he _ was lying in the hospital wing. The voice spoke again, obviously proud with itself.  **I didn’t get your half-breed pet just yet. Later, maybe. I like how worried you are for her. Thought about your half-blood boyfriend. He and his groupies have been meddling in our work. But he was too protected, too many people around. We can’t get caught just yet.** _ Who? Who did you hurt?  _ Ginny thought, shoving her books back into her bag. She needed to get to Charms class, though she wasn’t completely sure why. The voice just laughed in response. 

Ginny hurried down the hallway, needing to get to class. She needed something to drown out the voice’s gloating. Once she got to the Charms classroom, she slid into her seat. There was no-one in the class yet, as there was still 10 minutes left in the lunch break. Professor Flitwick looked up at her from where he was grading papers at his desk, something akin to pity in his eyes, though Ginny didn’t know why. 

“Good afternoon, Miss Weasley.” He said in his squeaky voice, standing and moving over to Ginny’s desk. “I’m glad you’re here early. There’s something I need to talk to you about, and I would rather the rest of the class isn’t here.” The voice cackled evilly, causing Ginny’s heart to plummet as Flitwick continued. “You have probably heard the rumors that the heir of Slytherin has attacked again. The unfortunate victim this time was your desk partner, Mr Creevey.” 

Ginny gasped.  _ Why him?  _ The voice stopped it’s laughter long enough to answer.  **I think we’ll work our way up to the people you care about most. From here we can move on to your brother’s mudblood friend, then your half-blood boyfriend, then maybe a few of your precious brothers. We’ll save your half-breed pet for last, and I think I’ll even let you watch as we kill her.** Tears sprang to Ginny’s eyes. Professor Flitwick was looking at her with concern, and when he next spoke his voice was soft. 

“Of course, if you need to take a day off from class that’s perfectly okay. I understand.” Ginny looked up at him, trying desperately not to let herself cry. “No, no.” She whispered, hoping he would hear her. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.” Flitwick gave her an appraising look, but walked off as a group of students walked in, chatting happily. Ginny felt empty. She had done this. She desperately wanted Colin to wake up and be fine, but a secret, selfish part of her wanted him to stay petrified forever. If he was never healed, he wouldn’t tell everyone her sins, and she wouldn’t have to see the betrayal in the eyes of her family, Harry, and Lyra. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut, burying her face in her hands. The blackness brought no relief, just the look in her mother’s eyes when she looked at the photo of that boy. But behind Ginny’s eyes, her mother was looking at a photo of her. 

That night the nightmares started in earnest. She would find herself standing in the empty Gryffindor common room, which was eerily quiet without the normal joking chatter that usually filled the space. Ginny would then exit the portrait hole stepping over the broken body of Neville Longbottom lying on the floor as if he had tripped before reaching the steps. Unfazed, she would keep going down the stairs, barely noticing the blood that dripped off of the empty portrait frames. Occasionally she would see the mauled bodies of other students she couldn’t name, all with their mouths open in terror. Once she reached the first floor she would be met by Percy, lying in a pool of blood. His glasses would be shattered, dangling off of his broken nose, brown eyes frozen in fear. Ginny then stepped over him, her boot hitting his head on the way. The doors to the Great Hall were open and she walked through them. Fred and George laid over each other on one of the tables, though the only recognizable portion of them were their eyes staring accusingly at Ginny. She would head towards the teachers table, where Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Marissa sat petrified in the chairs next to Dumbledore’s. They stared straight ahead, their hands frozen in position on the table in front of them. In the middle chair where their headmaster usually sat was Lyra, her neck twisted at an unnatural angle. Her mouth was open in a scream, her normally lively eyes empty. Blood coated her teeth and dripped down her chin to pool in the bowl in front of her. Ginny, her heart cold, would then look up at the wall behind the table, where a large gilded mirror was hung. The face she saw was not hers, but that of the boy’s. His hair was tangled and matted, his cheekbones splattered with blood. Just as she looked into his eyes she always woke up in a cold sweat, her entire body frozen in terror. 

After the third night in a row of nightmares Percy had forced Ginny to go to Madam Pomfrey’s, noticing the growing circles under her bloodshot eyes. Not even dreamless sleep could stave off the night terrors that gripped her whenever she slept. Ginny suspected that they were the voice’s doing, but she couldn’t tell Pomfrey that without admitting her guilt. The voice had trapped her with no escape, and the only person she could confide in was Tom. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A third attack and Christmas part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No explicitly described violence in this chapter, it's lighter than everything so far I think.   
> All disclaimers about copyright from the beginning still hold.

The nightmares didn’t let up as Christmas approached, but instead worsened. Fred and George did nothing to help matters. Their idea of cheering Ginny up consisted of covering themselves in fur and boils and leaping out from behind statues when she passed by. They only stopped after Percy threatened to write home to their mother. 

Ginny spent most of her free hours with Lyra, either studying in the library or walking around the grounds, chatting amicably about classes and friends. Lyra seemed content to carry the conversation for Ginny, who was grateful for the opportunity to lose herself in the other girl’s company. Lyra was one of those rare people who could talk almost endlessly without being self-absorbed or shutting others out of the conversation. Ginny relaxed into the feeling of not having to talk, but not being ignored either. Lyra would look at her whenever Ginny brought herself to say something, acting as though Ginny asking to borrow a quill was the most important thing happening in that moment. There were several times where Ginny was tempted to spill all of the guilt and worry that had been living inside her for months, but each time the voice cut in before she could.  **Are you certain you want to do that? Half-breeds aren’t exactly trustworthy. She’d probably sell you out to the ministry to save her own hide.**

Ginny didn’t think that Lyra was untrustworthy, quite the opposite, but she still couldn’t allow herself to tell the other girl her secret. The constant jarbs of the voice mingled with her own fear to make her paranoid of how the people around her would react when they found out the horrible things she’d done. Furthermore, if Lyra knew about what Ginny had done and didn’t tell anyone, she would get punished as well when the truth inevitably came out. She didn’t think she could bear causing Lyra pain. 

The voice was fairly subdued until November. Not quite, never silent or forgiving. It still taunted her family and friends, picking apart all of Ginny’s flaws and insecurities. But it wasn’t as violent though, less threatening about all the people Ginny cared about, and didn’t fill her mind with nearly as many images of their mangled corpses. Ginny didn’t relax though, as she could sense that it was just biding its time until it found the best moment to strike. That time came one afternoon when Ginny and Lyra were sitting together in the library, sharing notes as they worked on the Potions essay Snape had assigned. 

A murmur of voices came from the next row of books over, causing both Lyra and Ginny to look up from what they were doing. “That’s Ernie.” Lyra whispered, leaning towards Ginny. She caught a whiff of Lyra’s floral shampoo and her heart sped up. “He’s a second year in my house.” Lyra continued. Ernie was very angrily whispering at someone else with whom he seemed to be having a heated argument. “... speaking Parseltongue and chasing the snake towards Justin.” 

**So some brat here speaks Parseltongue, hmmm?** The voice, said smugly, causing panic to cause the hairs to stand up on the back of her neck.  **That’s an advantageous development. Very good for our plans, indeed.** The voice shifted forward, as though it wanted to get a better seat for the show. 

Ginny let out a small sound; the voice was right, it didn’t look good for whoever it was Ernie was talking about. She didn’t think she could bear another innocent person being hurt by her weakness. Lyra noticed her friend’s distress and leaned forward, brows furrowed in confusion.

“What’s Parseltongue? Why does it matter if you can speak it?” Lyra whispered, looking back as if to make certain Ernie wouldn’t catch them eavesdropping . Ginny mentally hit herself. Of course her friend, who was raised by Muggles, wouldn’t understand the implications of someone being able to speak the rare language. 

“It’s the language of snakes.” She whispered back, recalling a story her father had told her before bed. “Slytherin could speak it, and it’s usually spoken by dark wizards.” 

Lyra looked thoughtful and opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by the continuation of the hushed argument taking place next to them. 

“I wasn’t chasing the snake towards Justin, I was telling it to back off, wasn’t I?” Harry’s voice came, sounding exasperated at Ernie’s accusation. “I didn’t even know what Parseltongue was until that happened.” 

**Your half-blood boyfriend is the one, I see.** The voice said, even more pleased than before.  **That’s even better, isn’t it. I think our time is coming up little one, but it wouldn’t do to have you trying to stop me again. It’s getting rather… annoying. No, no, wouldn’t do at all.** With that Ginny felt herself being shoved back into the corner of her mind she was becoming far too familiar. She struggled against the force of the voice, but all of the sudden she was just so tired. What was the use? She couldn’t stop it the first time, and it had only grown stronger since then.  _ No, Ginerva, you cannot ever give up.  _ Her mother’s voice scolded her, rousing her to start pounding again at the walls of her mental prison, but it only caused the voice to press tighter, tighter, tighter, squeezing her until she was too small, too small to fight, to run, to stop it....

Everything went fuzzy after that. Ginny watched the voice command the basilisk to attack Justin, fruitlessly pleading with it to  _ stop, please _ . It was no use. She looked on in horror as Justin fell, frozen to the floor, the voices smugness permeating every corner of her mind. When she finally regained control of her body something fundamental had changed. The voice seemed more substantial, as though it had fed on the darkness that had festered in her soul over the term. At every move she could feel the pull of the voices' wishes. One time she had attempted to tell Lyra about the voice, but it had grabbed control of her vocal cords as soon as she had the thought.  **Not so fast. It’s not time for them to know our plans yet.** It had said, chuckling condescendingly. Every night she went to sleep exhausted and woke up screaming, plagued by the nightmares that never seemed to leave her alone. 

Lyra noticed the shift in Ginny, but she didn’t comment. Ginny would sometimes catch her looking concernedly at her as they studied together in the library, her silver eyes stormy, but she didn’t ask what was wrong. If she had, the voice would have told Lyra it was homesickness, which was prevalent among the first years that stayed at Hogwarts over the Christmas holiday. While Fred, George, and Percy had gone home to the Burrow, Ron had said something about wanting to keep Harry and Hermione company and Ginny had latched on to the excuse, claiming Lyra would be lonely without her. Molly had sent a letter reluctantly acquiescing and demanding that Ginny bring her new friend around for Easter, and what size did you say she was again, dear? 

The week leading up to Christmas Ginny was plagued by restless nights that left her cheeks sticky with tears when she woke, and all day images of broken bodies were ingrained inside her eyelids. Christmas Eve she prayed to Merlin that she would find some relief from the gore that waited for her when she went to sleep, but it was futile. Her dream that night was even worse than normal. She was standing in the courtyard at Hogwarts, surrounded by fresh, untouched snow. There was something waiting behind her, just out of her field of vision. It didn’t have the same energy as the voice; it was less calculating, surrounded more by the air of barely controlled bloodlust. She stood there for a few hushed minutes, feeling the being behind her move closer, it’s impatience rising. Suddenly something large, black, and furry barreled into her, knocking her over. When Ginny hit the soft snow, she was no longer in the courtyard, instead seeing the dark shapes of trees in the night sky overhead. A wolf howled somewhere nearby, a sound that should have sent shivers of apprehension down Ginny’s spine, but strangely made her feel comforted. She sat up, looking around. The light of the full moon shone down through the thick foliage, illuminating a path through the trees ahead of her. Ginny stood as though in a trance and started walking, following a trail of silver liquid that shone eerily in the moonlight. After several minutes she came to a clearing, stopping suddenly at what she saw. A dark figure was crouched in the middle of the space, it’s face pressed to the neck of a unicorn that lay dying on the ground in front of it. Ice trickled down Ginny’s back as the figure raised its head, and she stood frozen as every nerve in her body screamed at her to run. A low growl sounded from the bushes behind the figure as a dark blonde wolf emerged, causing the figure to whirl around. The wolf lunged at it, causing it to flee from the corpse of the unicorn. The wolf chased the figure to the edge of the clearing before turning and looking at Ginny, it’s eyes a golden gray that seemed vaguely familiar…

“Ginny! Wake up!”

Ginny’s eyes shot open to see Lyra hovering over her, those same eyes from her dream filled with concern. “It’s Christmas.” Lyra said, calmer now that she had woken her friend. 

Ginny sat up slowly, trying to shake the strange fog her dream had left her in. She looked again at Lyra, noticing that the concern was fading from her eyes to be replaced by excitement.

“How did you get into my dorm?” She said groggily, wrapping her comforter around herself to fend off the cold. Lyra was starting to bounce with anticipation, her sandy blonde curls falling out of their messy bun to frame her face. Something warm and hungry stirred deep within Ginny as she stared at the way the firelight highlighted the sharp planes of Lyra’s cheekbones. 

“I ran into your brother and his friend Harry on their way out of your common room and they let me in.” Lyra said, obviously growing impatient with how slow Ginny was taking to wake. “I brought you your present.” She said, bursting with excitement as she shoved a meticulously wrapped package into Ginny’s lap and shoved her feet over to sit at the end of her bed. The shiny red paper had a pattern of Quaffles, Snitches, Bludgers, and brooms racing across it, chasing each other in circles as Ginny watched. She looked up to see Lyra beaming proudly at her, and Ginny couldn’t tell if her cheeks were red with embarrassment or firelight. 

Emboldened by the anticipation on her best friend’s face Ginny carefully peeled apart the wrapping, trained into meticulousness by her mother’s insistence that all nice paper could be reused the next year. Folding the paper primly and setting it on the bed next to her, Ginny opened the cardboard box she had uncovered. 

There was a magazine and gold token sitting side by side on wine coloured tissue. Ginny lifted out the magazine first, her heart lifting with excitement as she saw the Holyhead Harpies’ most recent lineup smiling and waving at her from out of the page. She looked up at Lyra, whose giddy eyes had a tinge of self doubt behind them. 

Ginny grinned to set her friend at ease before pulling out the token, turning it over in her hands. 

“It’s a mail token for 50 owl trips overseas.” Lyra said nervously, gray eyes sparkling in the firelight. “I remember you saying how you can’t talk to your brothers very often because of the owl post rates, so I figured this way you can send letters to them more frequently. If you don’t like it…” She was cut off by Ginny engulfing her in a hug. 

Ginny buried her face in her friend’s neck, inhaling the scent of almonds and cherry that accompanied Lyra everywhere. Warmth radiated from her, calming Ginny. She felt safe, a feeling that had become fleeting since coming to Hogwarts. She pulled back quickly, realizing that it was a bit weird to be cuddling your best friend over a Christmas gift. 

“Let me get you your gift!” Ginny exclaimed, jumping off the bed and retrieving the packages she had for Lyra from under her bed. One was wrapped in the same colorful paper her mother used to wrap gifts every year, while the other was swaddled in a dark silver tissue Ginny had found in an owl order catalogue. When she turned back to the bed she caught a look of shock cross Lyra’s face, but it was quickly replaced by an anticipatory grin. 

Lyra bounced excitedly on the bed while she tore open the paper on the gift from Mrs Weasley. A black sweater with a yellow L emblazoned on the front was uncovered. Lyra lifted it up and let it fall open, staring at it for a long moment. Nervousness began to rise in Ginny’s chest. Maybe Lyra thought it was weird or intrusive that Ginny’s mum had sent her such a personal gift. When she turned towards her, however, her silver eyes were wet with tears. 

Lyra lunged towards Ginny, wrapping her in a hug rivaling the intensity of the one the two girls had shared earlier. “Thank you.” She whispered into her ear, voice wobbly. “Don’t thank me, my mum loves knitting sweaters for people.” Ginny said self-consciously, pulling back to look at her friend. “Harry’s got one too, he’ll probably be wearing it today.” Lyra quickly wiped her eyes and eagerly tugged the sweater over her head, not bothering to take off the pajama shirt she still wore. It was adorably overlarge on her petite frame, a bit too long for her arms and torso, but not ridiculously so. Something welled up in Ginny at the sight of her friend wearing the sweater, the most content look Ginny had ever seen on her face. Something struck Ginny at that moment. Lyra had probably never gotten a Christmas present, or at least not one personalized to her. Ginny didn’t know much about being an orphan, but she figured that no-one had been there to knit Lyra sweaters and yell at her siblings that ‘Saint Nicolas would bring only coal if they didn’t get down from there’. She smiled at the blonde, happy that she could at least provide one of those things for the other girl. 

Ginny went into the bathroom to get dressed and let Lyra borrow a pair of her trousers. When she emerged, freshly washed, dressed, and wearing her own Weasley sweater, Lyra was sitting on the bed, flipping through Ginny’s new magazine. The borrowed jeans were rolled up at the cuffs, as Ginny was several inches taller than Lyra, and the scene looked comfortable and warm. When she noticed Ginny watching her Lyra leaped up off the bed and grinned sheepishly at her. “Sorry for looking through your mag, but I got kinda bored waiting. You ready to go down to breakfast?” Ginny grinned back at her best friend, her excitement infectious. She nodded, and they started down the steps from the girls’ dorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to post this. It's been a busy few weeks. To make up for it this chapter is longer, and hopefully better, so I hope you enjoyed it. Comments and kudos are much appreciated!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas holidays come to a close and Ginny has a realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took so long. It's a bit short but I'm trying to move along the plot to get ahead to some other things. I hope it's good.

The two girls spent their Christmas Day in a warm haze full of snowball fights and walks around the Black Lake. Ginny kept finding herself staring at Lyra throughout the day, sandy blonde curls escaping from under her hat to rest over her yellow and black scarf, the tip of her nose red from the cold. The gray sky only made Lyra’s eyes seem to gleam an even brighter silver as she looked at Ginny, laughing at her own bad joke. It made something warm in Ginny’s chest, causing the voice to recoil into the darkest parts of Ginny’s mind. All of the guilt and fear that had been haunting her since the beginning of the year seemed to melt away under the blinding light of the sun and Lyra’s smile. The day was perfect until the dinner feast. 

Ginny, Lyra, and Luna were sitting at the end of the table set up in the Great Hall furthest from where the professors sat. Lyra had just opened a cracker to reveal a packet of ice mice, which she promptly opened and shared between the three friends. Suddenly Luna’s mouse was snatched out of her grasp by a thin, pale hand. “What’s this?” Said the sneering voice of Draco Malfoy as he dangled the squeaking mouse from it’s tail over Luna’s head. “Accepting a treat from the filthy mudblood, Lovegood? I would’ve expected such desperation from Weaslette. Probably the only way you can afford sweets. I am surprised you chose to stay at Hogwarts over the break considering what’s happened to your mudblood pals, Smith. Wanting to become a treat yourself for the Heir of Slytherin and his monster?” Lyra leaped to her feet in anger, curls flying as she stood face to face with Draco. Gray eyes stared daggers into each other as Lyra glared up into Draco’s pointy face, her mouth curved into a furious smile.

“You know, I think you’re just jealous. Because you see, I stay here over the holidays to spend time with my friends, but you stay here because Mummy and Daddy are too busy playing host to pay attention to you,  _ Malfoy _ .” Lyra’s tone was mocking, and her words caused the tips of Draco’s ears to flush dark with rage. “You watch out, little mudblood. The Heir will come for you and all your filthy little friends.” He whirled away to sit between Crabbe and Goyle at the opposite end of the table, where he glared daggers at Lyra. 

Lyra took her seat again with a huff, pointedly not looking back at Draco. “He’s ridiculous with all of his Heir nonsense.” She said, reaching across the table to serve herself a slice of pumpkin pie. “Idolizing him as some sort of power fantasy.” Luna stared dreamily at the air above Lyra’s head, seemingly oblivious to the argument that had just occurred, and murmured arily, “Draco was wrong about you being muggleborn anyways, Lyra. You have too many nargles for that.” Lyra and Ginny stared at her, a chunk of pie dangling off of the former’s fork. “Moving on.” Lyra said after a moment of awkward silence, which Luna seemed to be unconcerned by, before shoving the forkful into her mouth and picking up another cracker off the table.

* * *

The end of the Christmas holiday came far too soon for Ginny’s liking. Almost all of the Muggleborn students had gone home for the break, which lessened the vicious ramblings of the voice and allowed her more control over her own thoughts. She was dreading the inevitable return of both them and the voice.

On the last night before the rest of the students returned Ginny and Lyra were sat against the wall of the Astronomy Tower, huddled under a blanket for warmth and sipping hot chocolate as they looked at the cold winter sky. 

“Can I tell you something horrible?” Lyra whispered, her head resting on Ginny’s shoulder. 

“I highly doubt you could do anything horrible.” Ginny said, twirling one of Lyra’s honey blonde curls around a finger. She meant it. Lyra was one of the sweetest people she had ever met. Ginny had seen her on the verge of tears once when they learned about beozars because, ‘those poor goats’. 

“Your brother’s friend, Harry. I heard him talking to that girl Hermione about how he wishes he could talk to his parents, about how hard it is that he’ll never meet them.” Lyra said hoarsely, her voice catching on the words. “And I,” her voice broke, “I hated him so much right then.”

Ginny didn’t know what to say, so she kept absently fiddling with the piece of Lyra’s hair, waiting for her friend to continue. 

“I don’t know why. It’s not his fault he misses his parents. But it just seemed so  _ selfish  _ all of the sudden. Like, he knows his parents loved him, and wanted him, and they didn’t have a choice when they left him. But I’ll ever know if my parents are dead or if they just never wanted me. I have none of that love to hold on to, no memory of them, and I don’t even know if I should miss my parents.” Lyra’s voice was hushed, barely carrying over the wind. Ginny felt a wet spot growing on the shoulder of her jumper and turned her head to look at the other girl. 

Lyra’s eyes shone like mercury in the starlight, tears forming salty rivers down her cheeks. “Does that make me a monster?” 

Ginny stared at the girl curled up next to her, who looked too small and fragile lit only by the moon and stars. She was filled with love for her friend, who firmly did not deserve to feel such insecurity.

“I can’t think of anything that would make you a monster.” She said after a moment of thought, uncertain if Lyra would believe her. “And I’m certain that your parents wanted you. How could they not? You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met, and I know if whoever your parents were could they would have been there with you.” 

Lyra buried her face back into Ginny’s jumper, her whole body racked with sobs. Ginny wrapped her in a hug, letting her friend curl into her chest as she cried. As she held the shaking girl, Ginny couldn’t help but think,  _ If Lyra thinks that her being mad about her parents makes her a monster, what would she think if she knew what I’ve done?  _

* * *

  
  


The fear in the castle heightened as classes started up again. Many muggle born students had simply not returned after winter holiday, with plenty of sick relatives and unexpected moves causing people’s dorm beds to remain empty. 

Something about the apprehension hanging over the population of Hogwarts gave the voice an even tighter hold over Ginny. She found her words catching in her throat even more than before, as the voice deemed certain words as  **not beneficial to our plans.** Ginny could feel herself suffocating inside her own head, getting drowned out by a presence she couldn’t escape. She was terrified, scared that the voice wasn’t another person at all, but just her own thoughts.

She confided her fears to Tom one night. 

What if everything that’s happening is my fault? 

**_Everything you do is up to you, of course. But what exactly are you referring to, my young friend?_ **

Ginny felt a pang go through her at Tom's words. It was up to her, wasn’t it. If she were just stronger, she would have been able to stop everything that was happening. 

This voice, the one hurting all those people. What if it’s not someone else taking over, but just me? What if I am the monster?

Ginny blinked back tears as she watched the ink soak into the page, waiting for Tom to write back. There was something off tonight, something that caused apprehension to curl in her stomach.

**_We all must take responsibility for our actions, whether they are in our control or not._ ** Tom finally replied, his handwriting swirling languidly across the page.  **_Perhaps you should ask your half breed friend what she thinks. She should be able to recognize a monster inside of you._ **

Something clicked into place in Ginny's mind as she read Tom's words. She’d only ever heard one other person refer to Lyra as  _ half breed _ : the voice.

She shoved her palm between her teeth to stifle her scream, refusing to wake her sleeping dorm mates. Her hands flew out to push herself back from the desk she had been hunched over, knocking her ink pot onto the diary, where it started to soak in immediately. 

_ Just like it absorbed me. _

Something in the word half-breed had caused everything to shift into focus, letting Ginny see what had been right in front of her the whole time. Tom. He was the voice. Everything had started after she began writing in that diary. The similarities between Tom's cool writing and the voice’s smug tones became abundantly clear, and Ginny resisted the urge to smack herself for her own stupidity. There was only one thing to do. She had to get rid of the book. 

Ginny grabbed her night robe off her bed and wrapped it around herself, pulling the sleeve over her hand before she picked up the diary gingerly. She knew that it was her interaction with the diary that had given it hold over her, not touching it, but she was filled with revulsion at the thought of her skin touching that dragon-leather cover. 

She ignored the voice screaming at her to stop and hurried into the toilet of her dorm, shutting the door before turning on the light to avoid waking her dorm-mates.  **Stop it now.** The voice - no, Tom - tried to take control of her limbs to prevent her from her goal, the tendrils of his consciousness creeping through her nervous system like ice water. Fighting against the voice’s power she moved to dangle the book over the open toilet bowl. As she told her fingers to let go of the diary the voice only clung to her mind harder, screaming,  **Stop, you blood traitor, why would you stand in the way of the new world we’re building? A world free from the scum that would steal the magic that rightly belongs to you. I can make you the empress of our new society if you would just Stop. It. Now.**

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut. Some dark part of her was tempted by what the voice offered her, drawn by the visions of utopia that were projected into her mind.  _ It wouldn’t be perfect.  _ She told herself, her mind futilely commanding her fingers to loosen their hold on the book gripped in her hand. 

_ What would your family think?  _ Ginny thought of her siblings, of suave Bill, adventurous Charlie, strict but caring Percy, the twins, who caused mischief but who always had her back, and finally Ron, who she had played with and looked up to for her entire childhood.  **They’ll already abandon you when they find out what you’ve done. Do you think they could love someone who let innocent mudbloods be attacked?** The voice sounded smug, as though secure in the infallibility of it’s argument and the knowledge that Ginny would eventually give in. 

_ It wouldn’t have your friends.  _ **What friends?** The voice countered,  **The insane Lovegood girl, with her head too far in the clouds to tell real from fiction? Your dormmate, who you know doesn’t really care about you? Maybe that horrid half-breed you’re so fond of. Her kind can never be trusted to be loyal.** Ginny ignored the voice yelling in her head, listing off all the ways that her ‘friends’ would never choose to stand by her. She pictured the faces of all the people it was worth fighting for, all the people who she couldn’t let the voice hurt. Marissa, her mum and dad, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Luna, and lastly Lyra, her eyes glinting in the starlight as she looked up at Ginny that night on the Astronomy tower. 

“Does that make me a monster?”

Ginny’s fingers finally loosened, letting the book fall into the toilet water below with a satisfying  _ gulp _ . She slammed the lever to flush the toilet, watching the diary get sucked into the bowels of the school, taking the voice with it. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All rights to any recognizable characters, plot, settings, or text belong to JK Rowling and Scholastic Press (American) and Bloomsbury (UK).


End file.
